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THE HOUSE WAS AMAZING, two storeys of two time periods co-existing. From a handcrafted couch that must have went back at least a hundred years to the sleek black remote laying on top of it that went to the fifty-inch High Definition flat screen hanging above the wooden mantle which displayed little Coca-Cola figurine collectibles that looked as old as the soda company itself. Everywhere you looked there was the old and the new, including a oil painting of slaves tending glass in the old days, the glass and mirrors being made of actual glass and mirror.
Mirrors were everywhere. Everything from wall mounts framed in elaborate wood designs to the side patterns of the chic modern coffee table. More mirrors than the average home, yet not so much that it was over the top, the reflection of it all multiplying a thousand times over in an antique chandelier overhead. But oddly enough no phones, no computer. No way to call for help Lucas joked to himself.
The kitchen, the dining room, the two bedrooms on the first floor and the three upstairs all had their fair share of impressive decor, and it was at the last bedroom at the end of the hall that Isha showed them her and her great aunt’s little place out back. She had yet to regain any of the bubbly friendliness she had shown while handing over the lemonade, her skimpy outfit in what was now such a timid demeanor causing Lucas to wonder if she was indeed an inheritor of some kind of sex slavery.
But why would she need to do such a thing? It’s not like they needed the money to pay for all the amenities throughout the house, with all those hits they got on the story and riddle easily paying for it all. Look at all those baby videos that rake in so much, giving a kid a big fat college fund just by the power of the point and click. But there was always a chance these country folk were ignorant to the details of web wealth.
But they’re probably like clever gypsies, remember?
Focus shifted as Beth plopped her ass down on the bed, back to her flirty side as the twinkle in her eye told Lucas this would be their room. But didn’t it occur to her that according to the short story this was the very place Margaret had committed adultery? It was probably the same bed too. If they flipped over the mattress would there be a faded blood stain marking where the poor guy had lost his cock-a-doodle and bled to death? Or had Aunt Mama and the girl overlooked a detail in their mirror ghost story?
Ah, rooster outside. Talk about influence!
Maybe it was in Beth’s mind that this was the place it had all started, once again treading on the razor’s edge between fear and attraction. The thought that he’d be having blonde between his legs in just a few hours stirred his loins enough to add some blood flow down there.
Chapter 5 posted shortly.